


Take a deep breath, cause it's just the beginning

by jlondonk



Series: The Whouffaldi Chronicles [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternative season 8, Claras POV, Doctors POV, F/M, From the beginning then, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Just Bear With Me, LITERALLY, POV Alternating, Pining, Retelling of series 8, Slow Build, They are hopelessly in love with each other, Whouffaldi all the way, deep breath, i'm in too deep, mature for later chapters, there will be kissing, whouffaldi, with a lot of changes for sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlondonk/pseuds/jlondonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has just regenerated and is trying to figure out what's what. Amidst his jumbled thoughts of Dinosaurs and Robots is one constant. Clara....Clara, who feels more alone then ever.</p><p>Based on the episode "Deep Breath"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His new face, her old heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a long project. I'm not entirely sure that this was a good idea. Bear with me.

„Oh you remember eh…..“

.....Remember, remember….he did remember her, **of course** , the pretty one, the one currently looking at him, her hair in disarray.

He knew her…well. What was her name?

„Thingy.“

No. No, that wasn’t it.

„The not me one, the asking questions one.“

Why did she ask so many questions? He had answers, naturally, he always had answers. The problem was, that he had too many answers. Answers to questions, she hadn’t asked.

„Names, not my area.“

„ **Clara!** “

Was it Clara? That didn’t sound right.

„Might be Clara, might not be! It’s a lottery!“

„It _is_ Clara!“

Ah, well, yes, if she said so. She seemed exhausted, cross (very cross, judging by her eyes….huge eyes, who had eyes that big?), the way she was leaning against the Tardis, breathing heavily.

Her face….round. Big eyes. Round face.

His clothes felt strange. Too….brown. He didn’t like the color.

And where was all this shouting coming from? Ah yes, Dinosaur.

He would need to fix that.

———————

**„It’s not one of those things you can fix like you fix your bow tie..“**

———————

Bow tie? He didn’t wear a bow tie, did he?

A flash of long, red hair swept through his vision but he couldn’t see properly.... New eyes and all, still a bit tricky.

„I think something’s gone wrong.“

„Wrong?“

_What?_

„What’s gone wrong?“

Her face was driving him mad. He knew her, he could have sworn it. But hadn't her hair been longer the last time he….

„Have you regenerated?“

No, no, no, this was all wrong. She wasn’t human, she wasn’t…

„I remember you! You’re Handles! You used to be a little, a little robot head, and now….“

 ————————————————

**„Emergency! You’re my boyfriend!“**

————————————————

Bright lights, Christmas…a long, long christmas....but it wasn't christmas anymore. 

He shook his head. 

"You’ve really let yourself go.“

She seemed to deflate at that, somehow. Her face,….hopeless.

Sonic lanterns! _Of course!_ Why was no one listening to him?! He knew this one!

„Come on, Clara! You know that I speak Dinosaur.“

„He’s not Clara. I’m Clara.“

The pretty one, again.

Wait, why would he think that? That was odd, he didn’t think like that. Never mind that she was….that. And short. God, she was tiny, wasn’t she. How did she reach things? Did she carry a ladder with her...

„Well you’re very similar heights. Maybe you should wear labels.“

Oh yes, good one. Labels, he liked labels. They made things so much easier.

Easier to categorize. Differences. All this stuff, swimming in his head, so much, so much…a short skirt, cracks in a wall, fishfingers and custard…

„Why, why are you all doing that, why are you all going dark. Wobbly, stop that.“ 

Pictures, fragments, noise, so much noise. If he could just....

„I don’t think we are.“ Was that Clara now? They really DID need labels.

„Never mind! Everybody take five.“

And then, darkness.

 

 

 

His hand had felt so very cold in hers. So very unlike him. This wasn’t right. He was warm….he used to be warm.  

But of course, this was not him anymore. Her best friend. Her Doctor. Something had gone terrible wrong. 

 

„So what now?“, she asked. 

 

„He needs rest.“

 

„But what do we do? How do we fix him?“

 

„Fix him?“

 

„How do we change him back?“ 

 

She just wanted him back. Clara could feel her eyes well up again and angrily shoved down the tears that were threatening to form. 

She couldn’t be the only one thinking that. This wasn’t the Doctor. This was a stranger. He didn’t even remember her…

 

„Jenny, I shall be in my chamber. Would you be kind enough to fetch my veil?“

 

„Why? Are we expecting strangers?“ 

 

„It would seem there is already one here.“ 

 

Claras head was spinning. She didn’t understand,...she didn’t understand any of this. The gaping wound of grief was still so fresh that she barely had time to catch up with the rest of the world. She felt like she was bleeding inwardly. 

 

„What have I done wrong?“

 

Jenny had no answers. As it turned out, all she brought Clara with her kind words and sad eyes were just more questions. She heard her leave and had never felt more alone then in this very moment, the faint screams of the Dinosaur roaring in the distance.

 

Why hadn’t he listened to her? She’d begged him not to change and against all the odds, against knowing full well that he had little control over his regeneration, she had hoped. Now though, Clara felt merely subdued. She didn’t know what to do and the only person she could have turned to for help, was gone. 

 

„I am alone.“ 

 

Her head whipped around to this new, strange face, lying on the bed. His eyes were still closed. 

 

„The world which shook at my feet, and the trees, and the sky, have gone, and I am alone.“

 

Her heart skipped a beat and she almost wept. Was he reading her mind? 

 

And then, instantly, she felt foolish. 

 

„Are you translating?“

 

His deep, gravely voice, continued:

 

„The wind bites now, and the world is grey, and I am alone. Can’t see me. Doesn’t see me.“

 

She realizes with a start that she is crying. A tear had escaped from her cheek and landed on his outstretched hand but he didn't falter.

 

„Can’t. See me.“ 

 

Clara inhales deeply and turns toward the window. Even though his eyes are closed, she feels as though he’s staring right into her very soul and a deep, unbidden shame takes hold of her. 

This is not what was supposed to happen. She hadn’t been prepared for this. This grief. This loss. What was she going to do? How could he have trusted her with this? In all their adventures together, she had never thought....

 

The arrival of Strax pulls Clara out of her clouded mind and into the present. She moves to follow him but pauses at the door, suddenly uncertain. 

Even now, even when she feels so far removed from the person lying in the bed, she hesitates to leave him. She feels endlessly tired in that moment, her bones weary and heavy. The cold touch of his hand wouldn’t leave her be. 

 

What had he gone through? What will he go through?

 

And how could **she** , the way she was now, be of any use to him?

 


	2. Her resolve and his confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara is coming out of her grief-stricken state and the Doctor is mostly perplexed.

She had to breathe. She had to be calm. 

 

„Are you judging me?“ 

 

Madam Vastra didn’t even miss a beat. 

 

„The Doctor regenerated in your presence. The young man disappeared, the veil lifted. He trusted you. Are _you_ judging _him_?“

 

_Screw being calm!_

 

„How dare you! How _dare_ you!“ 

 

She was furious. She was livid. 

 

Anger. Red, hot anger, shot through her in tidal waves. 

 

„Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor, last of the five goodens, stoic philosopher and the **only** pin up on my wall when I was fifteen. Only one I ever had…„

 

She wasn’t some small child that needed to be reprimanded for acting out of term! She had watched her best friend slip away, through her very fingers and she had every right to be angry with the world! 

 

„I am not sure who you think you’re talking to right now, Madam Vastra but I never had the slightest interest in pretty young men.“

 

She could feel the tears, her hands shaking, a tremor, running through her whole body. 

 

„And for the record, if there ever was anybody who could flirt with a mountain range, she’s probably standing in front of you right now! Just because my pretty face has turned your head, don’t assume that I am so easily distracted!“

 

Clara felt the wound closing, felt the surge of such strong passion run through her, that all the grief, all the senseless, overwhelming grief, was simply pushed back to a far away corner, to be examined later. She suddenly heard Jenny clap enthusiastically, her eyes ablaze. 

 

„Sorry!“, she said, slowing calming down. 

 

„Well, goodness me! The lake is ruffled at last!“ Madam Vastra was on her feet but Clara felt rooted to the spot. 

 

It was like something had simply overcome her, a strange sense of power, of certainty.

 

„The Doctor needs us - you more than anyone. He is lost in the ruins of himself and we must bring him home.“

 

Nothing, _nothing_ that had been said in the last 24 hours, had reached Clara quite like that statement.

Because that was it, wasn’t it. 

Her duty. 

 

To help the Doctor. 

 

To save him. 

 

To bring him home. 

 

No more longing for things that couldn’t be. Chin up, Oswald. 

 

 

——————————————————

 

 

The restaurant was busy but Clara found a quiet booth in the corner. He would be here, surely. He had to come. Still, there was a small part of her that was simply afraid he’d forgotten her again. May be he’d placed the ad and then wandered off somewhere and found something else to -

 

What was that _terrible_ smell? 

 

She sniffed and almost started choking, slowly turning in her seat. 

 

And there he was. 

 

„What’s wrong?“

 

„I dunno! Maybe the _smell_?“

 

She hadn’t meant to sound like that, really, she didn’t want to fight, she wanted…

 

„Yeah, I know, it’s everywhere.“ 

 

Clara sighed.  „Where did you get that coat?“

 

„I, I bought it.“ Lying. Already, lying. 

 

„From where?“

 

„A shop.“

 

„No.“ 

 

If he could do it, so could she. Clara looked him over and felt a pang of guilt. She should have stayed with him. Maybe if she’d….but there was no point now. He was here, in a dirty coat, that he had swapped for his favorite watch and she would need to fix things. She would make things right, cause it’s what she did, it’s what she was good at. 

 

He attempts a weak smile and suddenly, she can’t bare it. Shouting is one thing. But smiling. Smiling cuts too close to home. 

 

„No, no. Don’t, don’t, don’t smile. I’ll smile first, then you know it’s safe to smile.“

 

And she exhales heavily and tries to stop, tries to be strong, because she needs to, for the time being, be the stronger one. 

 

„Are you cross with me?“ 

 

It’s hard to be strong though AND reasonable AND understanding and _honestly_ , Clara is only human so she can’t be all of these things at the same time and for gods sake, he’d just abandoned her, hadn’t he!?!

 

„I’m not cross. But If I was cross it would be your fault. And, yes, I _am_ cross.“ There, she felt better already. 

 

„I guessed that.“

 

„I am _extremely_ cross.“

 

„And If I hadn’t changed my face, would you be cross?“ 

 

Oh no, he did **not** just….

 

„I’d be cross If I wasn’t cross!“

 

„Why?“ 

 

 _BECAUSE YOU ABANDONED ME!!!! BECAUSE YOU DON’T REMEMBER WHO I AM. I AM CLARA AND YOU LOOK AT ME AND YOU DON’T KNOW AND **HOW** CAN YOU _ **_NOT_ ** _SEE ME, YOU —_

 

She exhales a shaky breath. No. 

 

No….

 

Stop, now. 

 

And she does. If he wouldn’t remember her, the way she needed him to, then she would make him. She was Clara Oswald, the impossible girl. She could do this. 

 

 

—————————————

 

 

„Okay, so what sort of person would drop a cryptic note in a newspaper advert?“

 

Her voice was different again. It changed so often when she spoke, he could hardly keep up. And there was this funny thing that she did with her breathing as well. Like it pained her sometimes. 

 

„Well, I wouldn’t like to say.“

 

„Oh, go on, do, say.“ There, again. It was higher this time. It was more…. _her_. 

 

Or was it? He couldn’t be sure. The last time she’d sounded so….english. 

 

„Well. I’d say that person would be an egomaniac, needy, game-player sot of person.“

 

„Thank you. Well at least _that_ hasn’t changed.“ 

 

 _At least that hasn’t changed_ ……

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clara…..

.

.

.

He shook his head for a fraction of a second....Well….he’d gotten lost there.... somewhere.

Must tread lightly. 

 

„But Clara, honestly - I don’t want you to change.“ 

 

His hand had done something strange and firmly placed itself on top of hers. Feeble thing. Why would it do that?

 

Her hand was warm….

 

Continue speaking! There is more to say. 

 

„It was no bother really. I saw your ad, I figured it out - happy to play your game.“

 

But she hadn’t placed the ad. No, she **had**. 

 

No, she **HADN’T**. 

 

Oh. **OH**!!!!

 

Mustn’t jump to conclusions, certainly interesting though! Who would place an advert in the paper to bring them here? To what purpose? Could be a trap! And if it was a trap, where they already in it? More importantly though, why had he still not moved his hand? Was he malfunctioning? 

 

Meanwhile she’d caught on with that he’d said earlier.

 

„Egomaniac, needy, game-player?“ 

 

„This could be a trap.“

 

„That was me??“

 

„Never mind that!“ 

 

„Yes, I _am_ minding that!“ 

 

She’d moved her hand. Good, he could think again. He must remember to double-check all his reflexes once this situation was sorted out. 

 

„Clara, what is happening right now, in this restaurant, to you and me, is more important than your egomania.“

 

Something strange took hold of him. Something not quite foreign, like a distant, fond smile of someone greeting him. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. 

 

„Nothing is more important than my egomania!!“ 

 

It got stronger. What on earth was this curious sensation? It made his chest feel warm and constricted. He didn’t like it. 

 

„….Right, you actually said that.“

 

He needed a moment. _Everybody take five!_

 

„You never mention it again!“  

 

He was distracted. Something bad was about to happen and he was distracted by her tiny hands and her big, furious eyes and that strange feeling, lodged firmly in his chest. This wouldn’t do. 

 

„It’s, it’s a vanity trap. You’re so busy congratulating yourself on solving the puzzle, you don’t notice you’re sticking your head in a noose.“ 

 

It was harder then he thought, trying to pluck a hair from his head. Too short. 

 

„That’s not the only grey one, if you’re having a cull.“

 

„Do you have a problem with the grey ones?“ 

 

„If I got new hair, and it was grey, I’d have a problem.“ 

 

She was quick. Had she always been this quick? And funny...

 

„Oh, I bet you would.“ 

 

With her perfect hair, her long, shiny curls, waving elegantly around her face, tucked so neatly….

 

Oh, _that_ could work!

 

He plucks a hair from her head and watches it fall to the floor, ignoring her small yelp. Damn….he _was_ right then. 

 

„There is something extremely wrong with everybody else in this room. Look, they’re not eating….“

 

This was a trap. 

 

And Clara was in it. Clara with her fragile human skin and her quick wit and her funny breathing. 

 

BREATHING! 

 

„Something else they’re not doing.“ 

 

She looked alarmed now, scanning the room with her eyes. 

 

„What do we do?“ 

 

Was she frightened? She should be. Any sane person would be. 

 

„How long can you hold your breath?“, he asked and watched her falter. 

 

She was staring and it unnerved him. He wasn’t used to it yet. Her eyes were….too full. 

 

The arrival of the waiter interrupted his thoughts. 

 

They hurriedly grabbed their menus and pretended to read them. He was pointing something at them. The Doctor didn't like it when people point things at him. He’s usually the one doing the pointing. 

 

„Any Specials?“

 

The sound of the scanner whizzed around them. 

 

„Liver.“  Right, robot voice. 

 

„Oh, I hate liver.“ 

 

„Spleen. Brain stem. Eyes.“

 

„….is there a lot of demand for those?“ Claras voice was higher again. How did she do that?!

 

„I don’t think that’s what’s on the menu - I think we _are_ the menu.“

 

He could almost feel her pulse quicken next to him. And then the waiter does something, that darkens his mood considerably. He turns to Clara, scans her. 

 

„Lungs, Skin.“ 

 

This creature wouldn’t get his rusty hands on any part of Claras anatomy, he’d make sure of that. Something dark and urgent awakens in him and he rises abruptly, grabs the waiters head and simply rips the face from the front of it. It comes off easily and reveals a metal work frame in the hollow head, a flame in the centre. With a grim satisfaction he hands the mask to Clara, who is now staring at the „waiter“ in astonishment. 

 

„…okay. Robot in a mask.“

 

„It’s a face.“

 

„Yeah, it’s very convincing.“

 

„No, it’s a _face_.“

 

The way she says „Ew!“ and throws the thing aside almost makes him laugh. Almost makes him reach over again and place his hand closer to hers then it ought to be. He really needs to check his reflexes, surely something is not quite right there. 

 

„Yes.“ 

 

„Yes, what?“ 

 

„Yes, we have a children’s menu.“ 

 

And he should have taken her hand when he had the chance really, cause now the most rubbish waiter he ever met, presses a button on his pen andhe feels himself being thrown back, steel bands slamming around his arms and Claras chest, clamping them both to the furniture. A second later, the whole booth starts descending through the floor and down, down, down, into the unknown. 

 

Next to him, Claras breathing does something strange again. Or may be his ears are just betraying him. They are, after all, still quite new. 

 

 


	3. Into the belly of the beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're trapped in the larder and there are dangers to face....if Clara could stop laughing.

The Doctor and her in a situation where they were both trapped somewhere. Check!

An unidentified, probably alien, species threatening them. Check!

Clara, not being entirely sure that he knew what he was doing. Check!

Business as usual then….

 

It felt so natural to be here with him, just like nothing had changed. Except him of course. 

 

Clara tried moving out of the bars but to no avail. She could hear the Doctor trying to get to his sonic screwdriver. 

Did he remember how they usually did that? Did he remember more then he let on?

 

„Are you ready?“ He _did_ remember apparently and she shifted slightly, turning towards him. 

 

„Go for it.“ 

 

„Don’t let it roll away!“

 

„I _know!_ “

 

„We’ve got one shot at this.“ 

 

„Next time make one that doesn’t roll.“ 

 

She could have sworn she saw him smile. But then he moved and the screwdriver was dropping to the ground and started to roll away. Clara just about catches it with the tip of her shoe. She hears him make a comment about her height and reminds herself to whack him over the head later, once her arms aren’t chained to this damn piece of furniture anymore. 

 

„Are _you_ ready?“ 

 

„Don’t miss.“ And she could just about kill him sometimes. 

 

Clara throws the screwdriver towards the Doctor with her feet and it lands in his lap but - oh.... ouch !

He’s keeling over, clearly trying to play it cool…

 

„Sorry, did I hit…..something?“ 

 

She tried, she really tried not to smirk. 

 

But it was hard….or well, it wasn’t really (Oh, the symbolism)…..and now she had to laugh. This wasn’t appropriate at all, was it? 

 

He looked over at her and frowned. But Clara couldn’t help it. They were trapped in an underground larder, which was actually an ancient spaceship, tied to a couch and she had managed to throw that thing right at his….well, at his thing. 

 

She was outright giggling now and had to press her lips together to remain quiet. 

 

The Doctor was using the sonic and the steel bands snapped back. Clara hurries out of the booth and catches her breath, still chuckling. 

 

„Really,… is this the time?“, he says, looking at her accusingly. 

 

„I’m sorry, I just…..“ 

 

And she feels like a schoolgirl being reprimanded by her teacher, which makes this whole thing even more ridiculous. 

 

„You just looked so….crestfallen.“

 

„And that makes you giggle, does it?“ 

 

„No.“ She shakes her head vehemently, the corners of her mouth still turned upward. 

 

„But it’s been a while since I’ve laughed and….“ She takes a deep breath „It feels good.“ 

 

Clara cautiously steps into the room until she realizes that he’s not following. 

 

„Doctor?“

 

He’s staring at her, as if he’d just now realized who she was and Clara frowns. Something intense passes over his eyes for a moment but just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone again. He looks down at his screwdriver, shaking his head a little, seemingly lost in his thoughts. 

 

Was he angry with her? She hadn’t meant anything by it. Surely he knew that. But then, how could she be sure? He was a different man now. 

 

„You should make that thing voice-activated.“ 

 

At that he looks up and freezes. 

 

„Oh for God’s sake. It is, isn’t it?“

 

The Doctor quickly jumps into action and moves past her. „….I don’t want to talk about it.“

 

There were people in the room. Well, when she means people….

 

„Dormant.“ 

 

„How do you know?“

 

„I don’t, I’m just hoping.“ Did he just admit to not knowing something? That was certainly new. 

 

„So is it these guys that killed the dinosaur?“

 

„Well if they’re harvesting organs, a dinosaur would have some great stuff.“

 

Clara didn’t understand. Why would robots steal organs? What was the point? There was another one there, sitting in a big chair in the centre of the room. A ragged tear went down the middle of his face, next to it a hollow cage structure, just like the waiter. Clara could make out wires, which seemed to be connected to what looked like part of a human brain. He wasn’t moving, his eyes staring directly ahead. 

 

„Captain, my Captain.“

 

„Can he see us?“ 

 

„Dormant.“ 

 

She pauses. 

 

„Hoping?“ 

 

He looks at her and smiles. A small, genuine smile, so lovely that she looses track of what she was going to say next. She blinks.

 

The Doctor steps up to the Half-Face Man in the chair to examine him.

 

„Ah look! Re-charging. He’s asleep, doesn’t even know we’re here.“

 

Clara forces herself to concentrate. Why had that smile thrown her so off kilter? Maybe because she doesn't know it yet. She doesn't know this face. 

 

„Clara.“

 

„What?“

 

„Look at the hands.“

 

„What about them?“

 

„They don’t match. These hands don’t belong to the same body.“

 

„I don’t understand.“ 

 

„I don’t blame you.“ 

 

And then he went off to explain how this wasn’t an ordinary cyborg but rather a robot turning himself into a man but Clara was only half listening. 

 

She was still looking at the hands. Not the cyborgs hands though, no, his hands, the Doctors hands. 

His fingers were long and thin, spindly almost. Yet there was something appealing about them. They looked like musicians hands.

Quite attractive really, the longer she…. 

 

**WAIT WHAT?!?! Hold the phone, where had that just come from?!**

 

But before she had time to examine that train of thought any further, something happened....

 

Cyborg/Half-Face Man just moved. 

 

„Is it…awake?“ 

 

„Waking up, I think.“ 

 

Great, just great. They were stuck here in this underground grocery room and Robot McLaughlin over there decides to wake up…

 

„Okay, let’s go.“

 

Suddenly things happened very quickly. The Doctor had grabbed her hand and they were dashing for the door. Claras pulse was racing.

He pushes her through one of the tunnels and she starts running. But she can't feel his hand in hers anymore and stops dead in her tracks.

 

He was still there, in that room, talking to himself. 

 

„Doctor!“ 

 

„It’s the brand new head, rebooting!“ 

 

„Come on!!!“ They were waking up, they would find them soon, what was he _doing_?

 

„I’ve seen this before!“ She's standing in front of him now, physically pushing him into the corridor. 

 

„Hurry up!! _Get out_!“ 

 

Clara manages to maneuver him into the adjoining room and is just about to follow when….

 

When an iron door slams down, blocking her exit. 

 

The Doctor is on one side, she on the other. She can see him through the tiny grating in the door, where he’s looking at her. 

 

„Doctor!“

 

Clara can hear the buzz of the sonic screwdriver, hear the door move up. There is a sense of motion behind her and it chills her to the bone. 

 

„Quickly.“ 

 

She looks back through to him but he shakes his head. 

 

„Sorry, too slow. There’s no point in them catching us both.“ 

 

For a moment, she is so hurt by his words that she can hardly speak. 

 

„Well….gimme the screwdriver then!“ Shuffling, more shuffling, just behind her. 

 

„I might need it.“

 

And then he does something that makes her question everything she thought she knew about him. He sonics the door shut and with a last look she can’t place (Because she doesn’t know this face yet, she doesn’t know) he turns around and leaves. 

 

„Doctor…“, she whispers. But there’s no answer. 

 

He’s gone.

 

He’s just gone.

 

 

————————————

 

 

 

He’d caught her. He’d caught her, she wasn’t hurt, she was fine. He couldn’t fuss, he was pretending to be a robot for heavens sake. 

He had to drag her across the floor, slowly, so slowly and back into that room.  

The Doctor carefully placed Claras body on the illuminated panel in the middle of the larder. She was very still. 

She’d be furious with him when she woke up. But he couldn’t think about that right now. 

 

He couldn’t think about her pleading eyes or her shock, her disbelief. The way she’d whispered his name as he’d walked away from her. Clara. 

Had it been just minutes ago that she’d smiled? Her eyes had been so bright. 

 

_„It’s been a while since I’ve laughed…it feels good.“_

 

He didn’t know what do to with her. He couldn’t read her. She smiled but it was sad. Two emotions at once. Impossible. 

And she had _dimples_!  Was that even allowed?

 

Clara was stirring. Any second now she would wake up and she would be scared. He couldn’t spare her that. 

The moment her eyes opened, he looked down. He didn’t need to, he was wearing a different face, but he couldn’t help it. He listened intently.

 

And Clara was brilliant. She was defiant, she was glorious in the face of death. 

 

„Go on then. Do it!“  His chest did that thing again, that funny thing he couldn’t explain. May be it was her fault. 

 

„I’m not going to answer any of your questions. So you have to do it, you have to kill me. Threats don’t work unless you deliver.“

 

„….You will tell us where the other one is…“

 

„Nope.“ He almost cracked a smile at that. Almost. 

 

„ _You will be destroyed_.“ 

 

„Destroy me then. And If you don’t then I’m not going to believe a single threat you make from now on…of course if I’m dead, then I can’t tell you where the other one went…and you need to keep this place down here a secret, don’t you?“ 

 

Oh she was brilliant. He needed to tell her later. 

 

„Never start with your final sanction. You’ve got nowhere to go but backwards.“

 

„ _Humans feel pain._ “

 

That, **that** almost does it for him. He can feel his hand twitch, his body leaning forward involuntarily but Clara remained in control. 

 

„Are you trying to scare me, because I’m already bloody terrified of dying. And I will endure a lot of pain, for a very long time, before I give up the information that is keeping me alive. How long have you got?“

 

„All you can offer me is my life - what you can’t do is threaten it. You can _negotiate_ ….“

 

But the Half-Face Man is standing now, looming over her. He grabs his left hand with his right one and twists. The hand comes off and he places it on his coat, where the fingers immediately take hold. Interesting. 

 

There is a hot, blue flame emerging from his arm but this doesn’t alarm the Doctor. 

 

What does alarm him though, is a sob, that seems to ripple through him right after it leaves Claras body. 

 

„Okay, okay, okay. Yes, yes, yes, I am crying. It’s just because… I am _very_ frightened of you. And if you know anything about human beings, you’ll know that means…. you’re in a lot of trouble.“

 

Real tears, real palpable tears on her face now. He could see them. 

 

_„It’s been a while since I’ve laughed…it feels good.“_

 

„We will not negotiate.“

 

„You don’t have a choice. Tell you what, I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.“

 

„We will not answer questions.“ He was coming toward her now. Intimidation 101.

 

„We’ll take turns, I’ll go first. Why did you kill the dinosaur?“ Oh Clara, always the teacher. 

 

„We will not answer ….“

 

„Why did you kill the dinosaur?“

 

„WE WILL NOT ANSWER QUESTIONS!!“ 

 

Genuine emotion, now that was interesting. Good work Miss Oswald. 

 

„Then you might as well kill me, because I’m not talking again till you do.“ 

 

If the Doctor thought he was puzzled by her earlier, then he was outright shocked now. There she was, this tiny figure, almost laughing in the face of danger. Her small fists clenched to her sides, her head held high.

Pure determination keeping her upright. He was mesmerized. He was….

 

„…within the optic nerve of the dinosaur is material of use to our computer systems.“ 

 

….distracted. Computer systems? Running on organic material?

 

„Where is the other one?“ 

 

How long has this place existed, he wondered. How long has this been going on?

 

„How long have you been rebuilding yourselves? Look at the state of you! is there any real _you_ left?“

 

The Doctor almost flinched. 

 

„What’s the point?“ 

 

He can see the cyborg doing something strange. 

 

„We will reach the promised land.“ 

 

Oh for gods sake! Is that was this is all about? A ticket to heaven? 

 

„ _Where_ is the other one?“

 

„I don’t know.“

 

Silence. Not for the first time the Doctor wondered, if she had any idea. He couldn't read her, her voice sounded all…wrong. 

 

„I don’t know but…“ 

 

She doesn’t know. She thinks he abandoned her. Clara Oswald is going to beg for her life because **he** didn't -

 

„I know where he will be. Where he will always be.“

 

He could feel her trembling…. was she bargaining with the cyborg?

 

But then he sees it…her hand. Her tiny, fragile, human hand…reaching out.

She _knows_ ….she knows it’s him and he feels so overwhelmed by her trust in him that it shakes him to the core.  

 

„I’m right, aren’t I? Please, please God…..say I’m right.“

 

What else was there to do. 

 

He grabs her hand.

 

 


	4. Make it or break it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara needs to make a decision. And the Doctor needs to calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I can't believe I've finished the first installment. Thank you for all your lovely comments. The next story will follow soon!

„There was no trace of him in the wreckage, they searched all of Parliament Hill. Where else would he go?“ 

 

The TARDIS was gone, leaving only a simply square marked in the dust. 

 

„I fear we have missed him.“

 

He’d left her….again. They’d made it out of that horrendous underground larder and somehow, he had managed to save them all and now, he was gone. Without her. 

 

Clara felt at a loss. She didn’t know what to do with all these mixed signals. 

 

He **had** saved her, he **had** grabbed her hand, he **had** delivered but….

 

Where was he now? 

 

And why….why couldn't he have waited for her?

 

 

————————————

 

 

Books. He liked the books. Blackboards. Useful. Armchair. Now we’re talking. 

 

And the clothes were better as well. He liked the jacket, it was…more him, the collar enclosing his neck comfortably. 

 

He wondered, not for the first time, what Clara would say.

 

No more bow ties….would she mind?

 

His thoughts kept coming back to her, always her. What was it about her that made him question his choices? Probably the eyes. No one should be allowed to walk about with eyes like hers. 

 

And then he heard footsteps, just outside. She’d run…to see him. 

 

That peculiar feeling made itself known in his chest again and he squashed it down forcefully. 

 

The door opened and he remained in his seat, hearing her enter, feeling her presence as she stepped inside.

 

She is walking slowly, taking it all in. It unnerves him, her silence. 

 

„You’ve redecorated.“ 

 

„Yes.“ 

 

„I don’t like it.“ 

 

He smiles. Oh Clara. 

 

„Not entirely convinced myself. I think there should be more round things on the walls. I used to have lots of round things. I wonder where I put them.“

 

She is quiet again and he thinks that, perhaps, she’s just as nervous as he is.

 

Clara is wearing her own clothes again and she seems so familiar, the way she was now, standing there, in front of the Tardis console, her fingers brushing against the levers.

 

He can not keep her in the dark. 

 

The Doctor stands and makes his way down the narrow staircase. 

 

„I’m the Doctor. I have lived for over 2000 years and not all of them were good. I have made many mistakes…“

 

_„Sorry, too slow. There’s no point in them catching us both.“_

 

He shakes his head.....„It’s about time I did something about that.“ 

 

This couldn’t go on. She had to know that he _wasn’t_ him anymore, the other him. The one that looked at her and got distracted by her skirts. Why were they always so short? The one she was wearing right now was another example. 

He had better control of his limbs now. No need to flap about as much with his arms. No need to hold hands all the time.

 

„Clara, I’m not your boyfriend.“ 

 

She was bewildered, a defiant look crossing her eyes.

 

„I never thought you were.“ 

 

No,….no, of course she hadn’t. 

 

„I never said it was your mistake.“

 

She didn’t reply and he swallowed because he hadn’t meant it to sound quite so much like a confession. The Doctor pulls the lever next to him down, setting them in motion. And then he spins around, a tad dramatic, a tad over the top, because he _does_ want to know, wants to see her eyes when she answers. 

 

„What do you think?“ He’s showing off, of course he is, it’s what he does, whatever the face, whatever the body. 

 

She suppresses a smile and he sees it, sees the little dimple in the corner of her mouth and thinks ‚Distraction‘.

 

„Who put that advert in the paper?“

 

„Who gave you my number?“ She’s walking around the console and he simply leans against it, content to watch her. 

 

„A long time ago, remember. You were given the number of a computer helpline, but you ended up phoning the TARDIS. Who gave you that number?“ 

 

„The woman. The woman in the shop.“

 

„Then there’s a woman out there, who's very keen that we stay together.“

 

She was probably the reason Clara was here, now, with him. He must remember to send her something, a gift basket perhaps, once he actually figured out who she was. 

 

They both felt the thump of the Tardis landing and Clara takes a deep breath. 

 

„How do you feel on the subject?“ 

 

Nerves. Tricky little things. He must work on that. His fingers were opening and closing into fists as he leaned against the console trying to seem nonchalant. He wondered if he was any good at it. Probably not. His limps were all awkward.

 

„Am I home?“ 

 

„If you want to be.“ 

 

And the way she looks at him now, so openly, he knows what she’s thinking about without even having to guess.

 

The trap door. Her pleading eyes. His turned back.

 

„I’m sorry.“ He feels it like a punch to his lungs. 

 

„I’m so, so sorry.“ Like a hand, encircling his windpipe. 

 

„But I don’t think I know who you are any more.“ Like a blow to the head. 

 

He feels trapped in a stoic smile, that is somehow still plastered on his face. 

 

And then her mobile rings and she doesn’t acknowledge it at first, in fact, it takes her a while to tear her gaze away from his. 

 

She mutters an apology and steps from the TARDIS to answer, not knowing, having no idea what's about to happen.

 

He can hear her, just outside....She hasn’t closed the door completely and he hears her voice, hears her sharp intake of breath, hears her fighting the tears. 

 

Tears, for him and yet not for him. What a strange world it was. 

 

He steps forward, slowly, because he knows what’s coming. 

 

„So who is it?“ he says and Clara glances around.

 

„Is that the Doctor?“ 

 

It’s surprisingly difficult to see her cry. The feeling does not sit well with him.

 

But then she smiles at something he said and it lifts a little. 

 

Clara Oswald. Clara…

 

She doesn’t hide her feelings, it’s all right there, on her face, her tears, her smiles and yet he finds it increasingly hard to read her. She’s not impossible. She’s not a mystery. Just Clara. _Just Clara..._

 

That doesn’t help to settle his nerves though. He feels his feet carry him out onto the street, toward her. 

 

He’s staring. He knows he’s staring and it’s probably too intense or too fierce or too something.

 

„Well?“

 

„Well what?“

 

„He asked you a question. Will you help me?“

 

„You shouldn’t have been listening.“ 

 

Irritation. That’s what it was. He needed to put a label on that one for future reference. It was an easy one.

 

„I wasn’t! I didn’t _need_ to! That was _me_ talking!“ 

 

How could he make her believe him? 

 

„You can’t see me, can you? You look at me, and you **can't** see me. Have you any idea what that’s like?“

 

There had been such tenderness in her eyes when she was talking to him over the phone. Such affection. Would there be some left for this new face? Would he deserve it?

 

„I’m not on the phone, I’m right here. Standing in front of you.“ 

 

She still hadn’t moved and he felt tired and weary and something else he couldn’t quite place yet. 

 

„Please, just….just see me.“

 

There is a long moment were neither of them look away from one another. But he can’t bare it, can’t stand not knowing the answer, can’t stand the option that it might not work out well for him. He looks to the ground and his bones are heavy with exhaustion.

 

Steps,.... slow steps and her shoes appear in his line of vision. He glances up. 

 

She watches him. No, she **studies** him. Intently. 

 

He frowns.

 

Clara exhibits him so closely with her gaze that he feels himself grow hot under her scrutiny. 

 

And he doesn't blush, thank you very much. He merely….turns a slightly pinker shade. 

 

After a long moment, she stops. And then - she smiles.

 

„Thank you.“

 

Thank you? He wasn’t sure what the protocol was here. Was she saying goodbye?

 

„For what?“

 

„Phoning.“ 

 

Oh.

 

OH!

 

He’s about to reply when she steps forward and hugs him so hard, he feels all of her pressed against him. 

 

Instantly he realizes how stupid he’d been to wonder if there was enough affection in her tiny body for his new face. Clara Oswald radiates kindness off her in waves. He hadn’t been prepared for it. He hadn’t anticipated….

 

Warmth. 

 

That’s what it was, that feeling, in his chest, spreading, so quickly. It was overwhelming. It was frightening. 

 

„I, I, I’m not sure I’m a hugging person now.“

 

She would let go now, surely. His arms were in the air, he didn’t know what to do with them. He looked like a capsized caterpillar....

 

„I’m not sure you get a vote.“ 

 

Oh. May be not. She was standing on the tips of her shoes to reach him for this ridiculously long hug and for a moment he entertained the notion of how cute that was. 

 

„Whatever you say.“

 

Ad he felt her smile against his cheek and he just…..

.

.

.

.

.

„This isn’t my home, by the way.“  She stepped back and he had to refocus. His mind had wandered.

 

„Sorry.“  He straightened his jacket, pretending to look around. 

 

„I’m sorry about that. I’ve missed.“

 

„Where are we?“

 

„Glasgow, I think.“ Could be right. Well, at least it sounded halfway plausible.

 

„You’ll fit right in. Scottish.“

And her smile widened. How was that possible? How many smiles did she have? There was one she’d thrown at him a second ago but this one was completely different. She was different. Familiar and yet new. Her face was….glowing.  

 

How was he meant to get anything done?

 

„Right, shall we er…“ 

 

He was stuttering now? Was this a thing? He mentally slapped himself.

 

„Do you want to go and get some coffee….or chips? Or chips _and_ coffee?“

 

Was that something people did?  

 

„Coffee.“, she says. „Coffee would be great.“ Apparently it was. 

 

She starts walking down the street and he follows before he’s even consciously aware of it. 

 

„You’re buying.“ 

 

 _Bossy_. Oh she’d be trouble. 

 

„I don’t have any money.“

 

„You’re fetching then.“

 

„I’m not sure I’m the fetching sort….“

 

„Yeah, still not sure you get a vote.“ 

 

He thinks he's smiling. It’s hard to tell without a mirror but his face does something that _feels_ vaguely like smiling. 

 

He might ask Clara, just to make sure. 

 

But when he looks up, she’s a few feet ahead of him and he sprints to catch up, which is frankly ridiculous, his legs are much longer then hers, how come _she’s_ ahead. Oh, she _would_ be trouble. 

 

He catches up with her and they fall into sync. 

Beside him, Clara smiles. 

 

 


End file.
